


waging my wars behind my face and above my throat

by jonphaedrus



Series: doe eyes and lies [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Headcanon, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Past Violence, but not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus
Summary: "He’s gotten migraines since he was a teenager, but they’re usually only for short bursts. He should have mentioned it to you. Let me guess, he—““Woke up, wouldn’t come out from under the pillow, grumbled incoherently at me, and passed out.” Monica nodded.“Sounds like him.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from 21p "migraine" and is set in the middle of doe eyes and lies ch 15
> 
> also known as "several scarves and not a guy pretends to be a guy who is even MORE scarves, fails, mostly"

Ardyn only left when he was certain that Cor had fallen asleep. His snores, under the pillow, were more muffled than usual, but he could still hear them. Dressed and wearing a face not his own, Ardyn took his phone, just in case, and went looking for Monica. The woman had to be somewhere, after all, and if anyone knew what was going on with Cor, she would.

However, she wasn’t in her apartment, or in the building’s communal lounge. She wasn’t in the outdoor markets, either, nor was she in any of the major Lestallum buildings that he passed by. Ardyn almost debated going back to their apartment to get Cor’s phone and texting her that way, but his loop brought him to the scenic overlook for the first time since the Night of Stars had come.

The whole of his long, long life, as the world itself had changed day to day, Cauthess had always been the same. The sheer unchanging sight of Titan holding the Meteor up had reassured him, despite all that had passed between him and the Astrals. Having something— _anything_ —else remain as he had made it a little easier to be immortal. And now, after all those years, he had shattered Titan (for a time) and it felt—

Oddly lonely.

Far below them, the Meteor burned on despite the dark of the night, a blue flame that cast flickering shadows over the endless sky. Ardyn sighed, and shook his head. No point to mourning that which was lost.

“Altum?”

He jumped, and spun. If it had been any name other than his false one, he would have already had the Armiger ringed around him—it was a sign of his own distress and worry that he’d been so out of it he hadn’t heard Monica approach. Perhaps the daemons were getting to him more than he wanted to admit.

“I...” Monica blinked at him. “My goodness, Cor wasn’t kidding. You really don’t look well. Should you really be out of bed?” She paused, looked around, hand on her hip. “Speaking of...he texted me this morning, I’m surprised you’re not with him.”

“I was looking for you,” Ardyn admitted, only to find himself tackled a moment later and knocked flat to his ass by— _Ignis Scientia,_ of all people.

“Monica!” The young man yelled, a knife in hand and already pressed to Ardyn’s throat. “Get back, get away! I need you to call the Marshal!”

“Ignis!” Monica yelled, grabbing Ignis by the shoulder as Ardyn gasped for breath as the man got an elbow on his throat and pressed down, tip of his knife dug into the soft underside of his chin. “Ignis, get off of him!”

“Monica, you have to run!”

“Excuse me,” Ardyn tried to say, working best under pressure and panic as he always had, looking between Ignis and Monica’s faces, grabbing the ground under him, heels scraping uselessly at the tarmac, “There seems to be some mistake.”

“Very funny,” Ignis replied, and dug the tip of his knife into Ardyn’s skin. He yelped, unnecessarily as it hardly hurt, and tried to jerk away from the man. “I’m sure Aranea has that magitek to take away your Warp. Save us all a lot of time and trouble when Noctis gets back, just keep you locked up somewhere to just skip all the pleasantries—“ Ardyn’s heart was in his throat and _that_ was a real fear, he didn’t need to pretend to be frightened as he thought about that. That Cor would wake up from his migraine to Ardyn in chains, would have to come see him and act like they hadn’t— he tried to scramble away, knowing that if he Warped it was done for, and yelped again as Ignis slammed his head to the pavement.

“Ignis!” Monica snapped, and he hesitated. “Ignis, stop it,” she had grabbed his arm and was hauling him back off of Ardyn, who cupped a hand to the back of his head and winced. That would goose egg, and there was a little blood in his hair. “You have the wrong man! Honestly, Ignis, that’s not Chancellor Izunia.” He seemed baffled. “That’s Cor’s _boyfriend_.” Like the two were mutually exclusive things.

“Oh.” Ignis lowered his knife slightly as Ardyn sat up, wiping the blood off of the underside of his chin onto his hand, still rubbing the back of his head and fixing his glasses. He’d spent so long holding a glamour on that he’d been in no danger of losing his present second face. If he _had_...he was already edging dangerously close. It was only the sheer impossibility of the idea that Ardyn was the one that shared Cor’s bed that had kept them safe this long. “I...my apologies. You sound a great deal like the man.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been told that before,” Ardyn replied. It was too late to fake a voice with magic; Monica had met him before. But he _could_ modulate his words a bit, keep his range in the middle rather than have his usual high, sharp edges on his words. He was exhausted, anyway, so he sounded like shit regardless. “Perhaps its the Niflheim accent. I will admit we share similar hair—“

“Ignis is blind,” Monica put in, and Ardyn pretended as if he hadn’t known that, hand to his chest in surprise.

“Oh.” He looked between the two of them. “You’ve got quite the aim, to tackle me despite that.” Ignis sniffed. Monica rubbed her chin.

“Altum, do you mind...letting him feel your face?”

“After stabbing me?” He could be offended over that. Normally he wouldn’t care in the slightest. Cor had killed him several times and he’d never minded.

“I’ll admit, it’s a little unorthodox, but so he knows what you look like.” Ardyn hesitated; his glamour would hold, but he didn’t like the idea. He sighed. Altum would let him.

“Of course. Do you perhaps have a handkerchief?” While Monica hunted in her purse for a tissue, Ignis stepped forward and brought his hands to Ardyn’s face. He hardly breathed, frightened in that moment that somehow it would drop and he’d lose control and the daemons would take advantage of his fear. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Cor would wake up and they’d have Ardyn caught and locked up. How would he even explain that? How would he even _begin_ to explain that?

How could he ever apologise for that?

“Ah,” Ignis said at last, stepping back, adjusting his glasses. “No, your faces are quite different. You have my most strenuous apologies. You said your name was...Altum?”

“Monica said, but yes.” Ardyn took the tissue she finally held out to him, and wiped the blood off of his chin and then held it to the back of his head to blot that as well. “And you must be Ignis. Cor has mentioned you.” The last he’d seen Ignis had been the day he’d locked Noctis in the crystal. He’d still had a cane, then. It seemed the last six years had been good ones for him; he was more comfortable than he’d been in Gralea. He seemed oddly deflated, though.

Missing Noctis, no doubt.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances.” Ardyn murmured an echo to the sentiment, and then turned to Monica. She’d spoken about Cor like she had known what was going on. He’d probably texted her; that would explain the haphazard positioning of his phone on the bedside table.

“Monica, I don’t know what to do with Cor.” She stepped forward and took his hand, her round face as worried as he felt. “He’s never been like this, it just happened out of nowhere—“

“Calm down,” she murmured, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You look _awful_.” Ardyn dragged fingers through his hair, the curls bouncing messily. He’d not even brushed them from being in bed; he hadn’t tied them up. His eyes burned from lack of sleep. “Come on. Let’s get some coffee, and talk it all out. You look like you could use something.”

 

 

Which was how Ardyn Lucis Caelum found himself getting coffee with Monica and Ignis Scientia, of all people. It felt more than a little awkward, but he quickly played it off. After all, he had liked the young man well enough six years prior. Ignis had, of course, never liked him.

“How long has he had migraines?” Ardyn finally asked, nursing his coffee. He intended to just give it to Cor; better not to waste food on Ardyn, who didn’t need to eat. “In six years, he’s never had one while I was around.”

“Six _years_ ?” Monica gasped, and Ardyn winced when he realised he’d let slip how long they had been together. “Oh, I’m gonna _kill_ him,” she snarled, angrily. “Six years and he only _just_ introduced us! Why, he’s…the most.” She rubbed her temple, sighed. “Obtuse, private, ridiculous man.” Ardyn shared similar sentiments. “I’m not surprised in the slightest that he didn’t tell you; they’re cluster headaches. He had an injury during the Old War, and it never really healed right, at least to my understanding. He’s gotten migraines since he was a teenager, but they’re usually only for short bursts. He should have mentioned it to you. Let me guess, he—“

“Woke up, wouldn’t come out from under the pillow, grumbled incoherently at me, and passed out.” Monica nodded.

“Sounds like him.”

“I wasn’t aware the Marshal had taken such a significant injury thirty-five years ago.” Ignis seemed surprised. “He never mentioned it.”

“He _was_ a teenager, Ignis.” Ardyn blinked—he’d. Never done that math before. _Barely even fifteen_ , and he had almost died for Regis. Oh, if he’d been able to _shake_ that man— “He wasn’t always Marshal Leonis. When I met him, his voice still cracked.” Ardyn choked on a laugh. “ And he couldn’t grow a proper beard.”

“I don’t think he’d appreciate you telling us this,” Ignis pointed out, and Ardyn shook his head, grinning.

“Definitely not.”

“Anyway,” Monica continued, drawing the first syllable out, “Did something happen? Something that would have interrupted his routine. Did he miss a meal, or sleep odd hours?” Ardyn paused, and then slowly put his face in his hands. Monica leaned forward, set her hand on his elbow. “Altum?”

“I had a...” he wasn’t sure how much she knew. Best to be vague. “I was ill, late last night. He wasn’t awake for more than maybe twenty minutes.” They’d both been so vague with what he was sick with, it was best to stay that way. “I didn’t think—“

“It’s not your fault,” Monica said, tightly, squeezing his elbow. “Really. You didn’t know, you _couldn’t_ know. If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s _Cor’s_ stupid fault for not telling you. If I was in your shoes, I’d go wake him up and slap the taste out of his mouth.”

“That would only make his migraine _worse_ ,” Ardyn replied, laughing softly under his breath. “Monica, I’m...” he hesitated. It was one thing to admit to his complex, too-deep feelings in the darkness of their bedroom, in the heat of the moment, halfway to orgasm and back again. It was another entirely to let them slip to someone else, in what passed for daylight. “I’m worried about him.” He felt like he was baring something of himself, especially with Ignis there. “I’ve never seen him like this. Is there anything I can do?” He knew how to take care of his own migraines, but murder wasn’t an option. If Cor died, he wouldn’t be coming back.

“Altum, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you _can_ do.” She sighed. “Did you get him to take his meds? He always forgets when it’s that bad.” Ardyn nodded. “Then all you can do is wait for it to be done. They never last longer than a day or two at the most, coming in waves. Just make him stay hydrated and take his meds every six hours for the two days after they’re done, and make him eat, at some point.” Ardyn nodded. He felt oddly miserable.

He’d be tempted to try and heal this, if he didn’t know it would be a fruitless effort and probably nearly kill them both.

“Do you want me to come over?” He was startled by the offer. “I can set up shop in the kitchen.”

“I’m happy to cook, if you need it.” Having Ignis offer to cook for him was so completely absurd that Ardyn almost burst into laughter, but reigned it in by a hair. “I know...how difficult it can be, taking care of someone when you yourself are struggling.” He looked pained for a moment. Of course—Noctis. Ardyn had put those poor boys through so much already. And more to come, of course. Always more to come. “It’s the least I can do, after earlier.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, thank you. I can take care of him. I’ve been well enough, all things considered. Thank you both, though.”

“Are you sure?” Monica looked worried, and not for the first time, Ardyn was glad Cor had a friend like her. At least, when everything was said and done, he would not be alone. “I know he’s just about the least rewarding patient on Eos.”

“I’ve had my fair share of unrewarding patients.” Ardyn laughed. “I was a doctor once, in another lifetime. Trust me, Cor is a joy to take care of.” They all smiled, a joke that neither of them understood right under their noses.

“If you’re sure.”

Reassured by her words, by knowing at least a _little_ of what was going on, Ardyn said his goodbyes soon enough, when the whispers and pressure of the daemons behind his eyes began to become too much, and returned to their dark apartment. He and Cor were going to have to talk, once he was well enough. Ardyn kept secrets, but Cor was another creature entirely when it came to never talking about his problems.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr & twitter @jonphaedrus


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